Proria
Warm steam leaves my lips with every breath. My left shoulder throbs as blood trickles from the wound, a steel-tipped arrow protruding from my flesh. Heavy footfalls grow louder, accompanied by torchlight and shouts; digging through the folds of my fur cloak, i brandish a sharp dagger from the sheath fastened across my chest. A large figure rushes past, clad in iron armor with a torch in one hand and an axe in the other. Thrusting my left foot outward, i manage to catch their leg, causing them to stumble and drop the torch, the flame swallowed by snow with a hiss. "I foun-" shouts the figure in a man's voice, cut off when my dagger slips beneath his helmet and into his throat, his warning dissolving into a gargle as warm blood seeps over my blade. Crouching over his body, i slip my dagger into its sheath and take the man's axe, my long and slender tail flicking behind me. "Okay," i tell myself, "one down, three to go. I can do this." An armor-clad woman rushes from behind a tree with a shout, a steel sword raised over her head. I throw myself into a backward roll onto my feet before charging, skipping over the man's corpse with a small puff of snow. My axe catches her sword with a clash, and i deftly twist the blade from her grasp and drop it to the snow; she takes hold of the arrow shaft protruding from my shoulder and pushes it deeper, causing me to hiss in pain as i swing my axe into her left rib cage. Failing to pierce her armor, i opt to bash the blunt side of the weapon into her helmet, causing her to stagger backward while i swap my axe for the snow-covered sword. She pulls a dagger from her boot and rushes forward with a thrust. Easily sidestepping the smaller blade, i swing my stolen sword, the blade opening the right side of her neck and allowing dark, steaming blood to flow to the ground. Another arrow whistles past my head as i swing around, spotting a humanoid figure crouched under a tree, obscured by blowing snow. "Damn," i mumble. "Filthy slave!" comes a shout from behind me as a sharp pain causes my head to ring, resonating throughout my body.
My knees buckle under the pain, but instead of falling, i'm jerked back as a steel arm wraps around my neck. "You're going right back to the family you ran from," spits a deep, ragged voice that reeks of mead, "and this time, we'll make sure you don't escape." Fear and anger flood my veins as i throw my right elbow and head back simultaneously, earning a crack of bone and the pain of hitting metal; the arm at my neck loosens enough to twist free, locking my eyes on the figure ahead, now revealed to be a woman in studded leather armor with a longbow in her hand, an arrow nocked and drawn. I can't duck fast enough, so the arrow drives itself into my left bicep as i sprint forward with an angry snarl. Grappling the archer, i slide the sword's blade across her throat and drop her form to the snow, facing the only remaining guard, who now holds a steel mace. "You've killed three Imperial soldiers. I'm taking you back one way or another, i have no reservations with killing you."
"I'm not going to be easy prey and i'm not going back." i tell him, pointing the tip of my blade. We charge in unison, swinging our weapons in opposite directions. His mace connects with my right shoulder, botching a sword swipe aimed for his neck, instead forcing the blade into his shoulder. I cry out, pushing him away and thrusting my sword into his chest, warm blood seeping down the blade. "I'll never go back into serving you filthy Imperials. I'm going to free my family and kill every slaver i find, until my people are no longer taken from our homes and forced to work ourselves to death." With a final gargle, the man falls limp and slides from my sword, laying in a puddle of melted snow and blood. Fatigue and pain overtake my body as i gather the soldiers' lost weapons, wrap them in the archer's bloody cloak, hide the bundle in a snowbank, and drift to sleep under a large oak tree.
My eyes drift open as morning dew drips onto my nose, sending a shiver down my spine. My ears shift and twitch, picking up any unusual sounds. The forest is silent, save for singing birds, and rhythmic clopping of… horse hooves! Excitement builds as i scoop the bundle of weapons into my arms and stride toward the sound of horse-drawn carriages. The trees part on either side of a dirt path, a wooden carriage rolling past at a casual rate. "Excuse me!" i call, drawing the attention of a fair-skinned man in a plain brown tunic, who pulls the reins to stop two brown draft horses. "Morning, miss! How can i help you?" he says, running a hand through thick gold hair. "Could I trouble you for a ride to the nearest town?" i ask, tucking the bundle under my arm, ignoring the searing pain from arrows still in my arm and shoulder. His forest green eyes study my wounds carefully before widening in realization; "You're the escaped Khajiit slave the soldiers are after! They're offering three hundred gold pieces for your capture!" Just as a wave of greed and excitement crosses his eyes, the bundle of weapons falls to the ground, the mace clutched in my right hand as I rush forward and swing the steel head of the weapon across his left cheek, slumping him back over the edge of the carriage and to the ground. After gathering my bundle and finding a handful of gold coins and a simple dagger in the man's pockets, I climb onto the cart and flip the reins, spurring the horses to trot down the road. As the horses trudge along, i work up the nerve to pull the arrows from my flesh, hissing in pain as fresh air enters my wounds. Sucking in a deep breath, i rotate my shoulder slowly. My eye catches a large burlap sack, and curiosity takes over as i crawl back and pull the bag open, finding only two green apples and a potato.